Everything She Ever Wanted
by MySoapBox
Summary: When Chuck is rescued after six years of captivity he is told to “resume his life.” Chuck can only imagine his life with one woman in it, but can she feel the same after so much time? OneShot


_**Everything She Ever Wanted**_

_**By MySoapBox**_

_**Summary:** When Chuck is rescued after six years of captivity he is told to "resume his life." Chuck can only imagine his life with one woman in it, but can she feel the same after so much time?_

* * *

At his welcome home party, Chuck sees her. She's standing in the hospital hallway, looking in through the double doors that are propped open for the party. Her hair is shorter than he had ever seen it, shoulder length, and straight. And she looks different somehow, older. But it is still his Sarah. He is surrounded by well wishers and he is forced to sit in this stupid wheelchair but he wants to go to her. He puts his hands on his wheels and looks up again to where she stood, but she is gone.

Undaunted, he asks Morgan to go after her. "Who?" he asks. His mind spins at the thousand ways he could answer that question but he says simply, "Sarah, I saw her in the doorway." Morgan leaves and then returns within minutes. She is gone.

Chuck is glad to have seen a glimpse of her at least, now he knows that she is alive.

Three weeks ago the CIA found him; he had been held prisoner in a bunker in Costa Rica. They weren't even looking for him, but when they took out the last Fulcrum place of retreat, deep in the jungle, there he was.

Chuck had been treated well enough. He had been clothed and fed, his cell was clean. They took him out a few times a week, to walk around and see the light of day. He had even made friends with many of his captors, if you could use such a generous word as "friends" to describe such people.

On Chuck's last day of captivity he awoke to a firefight. Suddenly heavily armed men burst into his cell and he was rescued. With in twenty-four hours he was put on a jet and flown to a hospital in LA.

The initial diagnosis was that he was malnourished and that he could be suffering from any number of parasites from living in that part of the world with no immunizations. And so he had spent the past two weeks in the hospital; held for both physical and "psychological" evaluation.

The "psychological" part was mostly debriefing, what did he remember, what did he "flash" on, that sort of thing. He told them, honestly, that he had not flashed in over two years. The Intersect in his head had not been updated in over six. He kept feeding his captors information to keep himself alive, but he knew it was only a matter of time until they found out about his deception and they would kill him.

How did he survive? He spent every day as if it where his last. During the day he tried to find joy in little things, a piece of meat he recognized for dinner, or an extra beautiful day. At night he would think of his friends and family. All this he told them. What he didn't tell them, is what truly kept him living, was his thoughts of Sarah, what she might be doing at that moment, where she might be. They had unfinished business, he and Sarah, and Chuck had decided from the very first day to live - if he could - to finish that business.

So here he is, on his last day at the hospital, about to be released to "resume his life," whatever that meant. His life had not truly been his to live since the day he got the Intersect in his head over nine years ago.

Shaking the thoughts out of his mind he looks around at his friends instead. Ellie and Devon and their two children, are lining up for the second time at the buffet table. Morgan and his wife, a woman that Chuck had never met, are standing beside him, chatting amicably with Anna, and her latest boyfriend. There are other faces he knows, Big Mike, Lester, Fernando and Jeff, they all look so different from what he remembered, but yet somehow the same, familiar. And still more faces, hospital staff that had cared for him, and many more he doesn't remember or recognize at all.

Anna hands him a newspaper article that had been done up in a nice frame. It was the one from the LA Times the day after he got back. It tells how Chuck was a random hostage taken by a militant drug lord to try to exercise authority over the United States and how the American Military had brought him home. Chuck doesn't get past the headline. He knows what the cover story is.

"Bartowski!" a man calls from across the room. Chuck looks up and smiles when he sees the man's face. How is it possible that he had not changed at all since the day they met? Except there is one thing, Chuck notices, his friend is genuinely smiling.

"Casey!" Chuck says and they shake hands. Chuck uses the handshake to pull himself out of his chair and gives the big man a hug. They slap each other on the back, and Chuck's eyes start to tear up, he is so overwhelmed to see Casey again. He blinks away the moisture and resumes his seat in the blasted chair.

"How ya doing Bartowski!" Casey asks. Chuck's other friends have politely left the two men alone. Casey pulls a chair up next to Chuck, leans in and in a conspiring tone says, "I heard you gave 'em hell in Costa Rica."

Chuck scoffs. "That's ridiculous! I was locked in a cell, how could I have done anything?"

"The way I hear tell, that false information you fed them the last six years screwed up their whole network. That's how we were able to take down their cells so fast. I took one out myself," he says patting his right hip where his gun would be.

"Well, congratulations Casey. I'm glad that I was able to provide you some recreation while I was away."

"About that," Casey says, his eyes looking down at the floor. "I'm…uh...sorry for what happened…for letting them get you."

Chuck is shocked by the admission. "No, Casey, no. These guys were top notch. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Still, I should have…. Semper Fidelis and all…" He still had not met Chuck's eyes.

"It's ok, Casey. If you'd been there you would've been killed, and they still would've gotten me."

"Yeah, well, I failed at my post, and for that…ah…I screwed up."

"Apology accepted," Casey. "Thank you."

Casey nodded his head and then as an afterthought looked him menacingly in the eye and said, "If you tell anyone, Bartowski, I'm going to come back and crack your skinny chicken neck."

"Now that's the Casey I know and love," Chuck answers chuckling.

A few moments pass in silence and Chuck looks up again at the empty doorway. He is working up the courage to ask the one question that had gone unanswered for the past three weeks.

"Casey," he begins, "have you seen Sarah?"

Casey's smile drops. "Yeah, I saw her couple of months ago."

Chuck twists his hands on his arm rests. "How is she?" he finally asks.

Casey grunts. "Good Chuck, she seemed really good." Casey looks down at his hands. "Really happy," Casey tacks on.

"That's good," Chuck says. Chuck looks out across the party crowd again to the empty doorway. "Casey…"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Casey knows what he is asking.

"She isn't coming," he answers. "I guess it's…it's too hard for her to see you."

Chuck furrows his eyebrows. "Why, Casey? Why would it be too hard?"

"Don't you know?" Casey says with as much concern as Chuck had ever heard in the other man's voice, "Sarah's married."

***

Chuck pulls up to a nice sized house in the suburbs of San Diego. He pulls out a scrap of paper and checks the address one more time. It's late and dark, but he can still make out the numbers on the house. This is the right place.

Nervously he pushes the doorbell. The muffled chimes sound inside the house. He waits a moment but there is no answer. He knocks on the door, just to be sure. Silence, he's about to go when he hears the patter of feet coming down the stairs. He is relieved. He isn't sure he would have had the courage to come a second time.

The door swings open and there she is, dressed in a fuzzy white bath robe, her hair clipped high on her head. The very sight of her makes Chuck's stomach flutter; he hopes she doesn't notice. And for a moment they just stand there, staring at each other.

"I thought you might come," she says finally and she steps back and swings the door open wide to permit him entrance.

She leads him down a short hallway to a front room. "I was in the bath, so give me a minute to change," and she leaves him there standing alone in a strange house.

Chuck is too anxious to sit, so he stands and walks back to the hallway where he noticed some pictures hanging on the wall. The largest one in the center, the one that he noticed walking in, is of Sarah with a man he does not recognize. The man wasn't what Chuck would call handsome, but he seemed to be tall and looked well enough. It was clearly their wedding picture, Sarah was in a white dress, with flowers in her hair and he was in a tux. They were smiling, happy. Chuck remembered what Casey had said. Shaking his head of the thought Chuck turns his eyes to the other pictures; Sarah and the man in front of El Capitan; Sarah and the man kneeling next to a big buck, rifles in hand; Sarah and the man on a sail boat.

Chuck feels his chest tighten and he flees back to the sitting room. Once there he is immediately drawn to other pictures lined up on the mantle place in matching black frames; Sarah holding a baby; a father pushing the baby in the stroller; a little girl with curly blond hair and deep blue eyes.

Chuck takes a deep breath and decides that he needs to sit down after all. He looks around at the furniture that he hadn't noticed at first. He is sitting in a chair across from a floral couch. There was a dollhouse in the corner with accompanying basket of dolls and an arrangement of flowers in the middle of a wooden coffee table. Everything is so different than what Chuck had imagined it would be. He couldn't fit the image of this room with the woman he had known.

He hears her soft footfall on the stairway and he turns to see her, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. "Do you want anything?" she asks, "a coke, or a beer?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Chuck says with a polite smile.

Sarah sits in the couch opposite him and pulls up one knee to her chest. Chuck knows he is being rude but he can't help but to stare at her. How many times had he pictured her face? Being here, with her, is surreal. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. She is still sitting there, considering him.

He doesn't know where to begin, and neither does she evidently because they say nothing. But they have to begin somewhere, so Chuck decides to speak.

"You know what I don't understand?" he begins.

Sarah looks nervously back at him. She seems afraid to answer.

"How is it that when I left, a postage stamp cost 42 cents, but now, only six years later, a postage stamp costs eighty?"

She seems relieved. "Yeah, I know. Crazy isn't it?"

Encouraged, Chuck continues. "I mean, that's like sixteen bucks for a book of stamps. That is the cost of a steak dinner."

"A cheap steak dinner," Sarah corrects him.

"Well, yeah, maybe not a t-bone or porterhouse - but still a steak dinner. So…It's a good thing we don't have to send many letters in the mail anymore, I mean at that price…whoa."

"That's probably why stamps have gotten so expensive, because no one uses them anymore."

"Yeah, probably," Chuck agrees.

He looks around the room again, not knowing what to say. Sarah seems to be content just sitting there. Chuck picks up a picture in a frame sitting on a table beside him. It is the curly haired girl again, this time holding a basket of Easter eggs.

"Your little girl is beautiful. How old is she?" he asks.

"Mattie? She's three."

He thought for a moment, calculating the years in his head. "She looks just like you."

"She's a handful," Sarah answers, her eyes soft and warm.

"I'd like to meet her," Chuck says and he's surprised to realize that he means it.

"She's at her aunts tonight; Tyler thought I needed a night off."

"Tyler?" Chuck hopes the question sounds innocent.

"My husband," she says flatly.

His face was carefully unemotional. "And how long have you two…"

"Four years."

Chuck sees that she wants this part over as quickly as possible. "And is he CIA?"

"No, He's out working a concert tonight. We own a security firm."

"Oh," Chuck answers. With all the thoughts and feelings crowding his brain it's all he can think to say. Sarah sits and twists her wedding band, around and around her finger. The seconds tick by.

"I saw your picture in the paper this week. You're quite the hero," Sarah says, wanting to change the subject.

Chuck looks down at the flowers on the coffee table. "Yeah, well, it was nothing."

"That's not what I heard."

"You know how the government makes up these things."

Sarah only nods. Chuck isn't sure what more to say.

"Sa…I'm sorry, I don't even know what to call you," he says, flustered.

"I'm still Sarah."

"Really?" he says, genuinely surprised. "I thought once your assignment was over they would give you a new identity."

"They did. But when I quit the agency I took the name again."

He couldn't hide the amazement in his voice. "You quit the CIA? So, no more spy stuff."

"No."

"Why did you give it up?" He thought that she would never leave her career.

Sarah reaches up and rubs her temple with her fingertips. "Do we have to get into this?"

Chuck is in earnest now. "I'd like to know."

Sarah looks down at her palms; she seems to be deciding something. "Because of you." Her voice was just a whisper.

Chuck's eyes widen. "Me?! how?"

Sarah puts down her leg and sits forward. "We looked for you. We looked for you for almost a year."

"I didn't know."

"What did they tell you?"

"Not much - nothing really. They just wanted to be sure the Intersect was no longer a danger."

Sarah shakes her head, clearly frustrated. "Come with me." She stands and beckons Chuck to follow. She leads him to another area of the house, an office.

Sarah stands in front of a small file cabinet and begins working on a complicated looking locking mechanism.

"By the way," Chuck says, "Why did you choose the name Sarah?"

Her hands paused on the lock and she sighs. "Because I found myself when I was Sarah," she says not turning to look at him.

She works the lock again and the file cabinet clicks, Sarah pulls open a drawer, and takes out a thick file folder. She lays it out on a desk that sits on one side of the room. "This is the file from our last month of the search, the month before we got the body."

"Body?" Chuck questions.

Sarah shakes her head. "They really didn't tell you anything." She flips through the file and pulls out a map. "We cleared out all of Fulcrum, here, here and here," she says indicating areas marked in red. "We must have taken a half a dozen prisoners, but not one of them could tell us where you were."

"And these numbers?" he asks pointing to handwritten figures in each red zone.

"Body counts," Sarah says flatly.

Chuck can only nod his head. He feels a little sick. "And then?" he asks.

"And then we got a body, shipped to my apartment, in a large crate, same height, build, everything. Even had your nametag - what was left of it. It was pretty burned up but I did the first ID." She tosses a photo out on the desk.

Chuck glances down at it but then quickly turns away. "Sarah, I'm so sorry." Chuck raises his arm, intending to put it around Sarah's shoulder.

She puts up her hand and blocks his advance. "It's okay," she says. "It was a long time ago."

"But still. It must have been hard for you."

Sarah ducks her head. "It was," she closes the file and secures it back in the drawer with the others. She looks up at him, her face unreadable and then she clears her throat. "I'm going to make some tea, do want some?" She turns and walks out the door before he has a chance to answer. Chuck has no choice but to follow her.

They walk together down the same hallway that ends in a kitchen and family room. The kitchen is large, and from all appearances, well used. There are dishes still in the sink, and stacks of papers and crumbs on the counter tops. It's nice, homey and comfortable. It is nothing like what Chuck expected Sarah's kitchen to look like.

"Have a seat," Sarah offers, pointing to a bar stool.

Chuck begins to, but then some drawings posted on the refrigerator catch his eye. They are mostly colorful scribbles but in one picture he is sure he can make out a stick figure mother and daughter with a heart over their heads.

"Your Mattie, she's quite the artist."

"Yes, she is." Sarah says, filling a tea kettle. "A dancer too, and a princess. I can hardly keep up with her."

"It's hard for me to imagine."

"What?" she asks, getting down some tea cups from the cupboard.

"You," he says simply, "you in this life."

She doesn't answer but lays the cups out on the counter. She turns and gets a cookie jar from the opposite counter and brings it over as well. "Cookie?" she offers.

He reaches in and pulls one out, it looks like oatmeal raisin. "See, this is exactly what I'm talking about."

"Time changes a lot of things, Chuck. People change." She takes out a cookie for herself and sits down on a stool.

"But not everything changes," he says looking at her meaningfully, "at least not for me."

She can't meet his eyes. "Chuck, when the dental match came back, you were declared dead. I went to your funeral."

"Really? How was it? Nice?" he asks playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Sarah's mouth twitches up into a smile. She is beautiful when she smiles. "Yes, it was very nice."

"Did people say nice things about me?" He takes a bite of his cookie.

"Yes, you would have liked it," she confirms.

"Did Casey cry?"

Sarah laughs, a true laugh, and it makes Chuck smile. It is good to hear her laugh again.

"Oh, I think he might have misted up once or twice."

Chuck leans over on the counter and rests his head on his hand making his face level to hers. "That's good," he says and for that second he could almost fool himself into thinking this was just like old times.

Sarah's thinking something too as her smile starts to fade and her eyes search his. She is right there, so close to him. The kettle starts to whistle and Sarah jumps just a little bit at the sound.

Chuck tries to distract himself with another bite of his cookie while Sarah gets the kettle and pours out for them. "Do you still take sugar?" she asks.

"I don't know. I haven't had tea in six years."

Sarah turns her back to him and looks up to the ceiling.

Sensing her mood change, Chuck stands and puts his hands on her shoulders. "Hey," he says, turning her around. "It's ok, it was just a joke. I don't have to have sugar."

Sarah laughs and runs the back of her hand under her eye.

"I'm so sorry Chuck. I told you to trust me and…you lost six years of your life."

"No - I've already been through this with Casey. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"You can't know that," a lone tear rolls down her cheek.

"It's much better that you're alive." He wants to reach up and wipe away that tear. He looks into her eyes. The few times he had seen her cry her eyes had always turned bright blue. They were bright blue now and all he wants to do is drown in those eyes and kiss away those tears. He takes a step forward and Sarah freezes like a deer in the headlights. They are close enough now that he can feel her breath on his neck. He wants to reach out to her. But he doesn't dare take her in his arms. He closes his eyes for a second and wills himself to step away.

As he does he sees a flash of something in her face and he wonders if it is disappointment. But the moment is past and she turns from him and picks up her cup.

"Uh...I think we should go back to the living room," she says.

Chuck agrees and picks up his cup and follows her back to the room with the flowered couch, and the pictures. Once settled with a comfortable distance between them they both drink their tea and finish their cookies. The seconds tick by.

"You didn't really answer my question," Chuck says. Sarah visibly tenses. "I didn't think you'd ever leave the CIA, what changed your mind?"

Sarah chews the last bite of her cookie thoughtfully, and then takes another sip from her cup before answering. "I realized that the CIA didn't make me happy. Life is too short to waste a single day of it being unhappy."

"So what did you do? After you quit, I mean."

"I did the only thing I knew how to do. I went to work for a security company."

"In LA?"

"Yes, I wanted to stay close to my family." Sarah stops and her cheeks flush, "Sorry, I mean Ellie and Devon. After you went missing we…you know how Ellie is," she stammers, not finding the right words.

"I'm glad." Chuck says, and he is. "Is that where you met Tanner?"

"Tyler?" she corrects. "Yeah, how did you guess?"

"You just mentioned that you and he owned a security company."

"Yeah, Tyler was LAPD before he got his knee shot up and he had to quit. We were both good at the job and after we got married we decided to make a go at our own business."

Chuck's eyes swept the room once more. "It looks like you've done pretty well for yourselves."

"Yeah, we've done all right."

"And how long did you date?" He tries to make the question sound casual.

Sarah clearly feels uncomfortable with this subject. "Chuck, I don't think it's any of…"

"It was just an innocent question," he insists.

A few seconds pass before she answers. "Six months."

"Six months," he muses. "Wow, that's fast." There is a slight edge to his voice.

"Some might say that," she says defensively.

"Well, it looks like you got everything I never knew you wanted. A husband, a child and a picket fence, all wrapped up in a little bow," he says bitterly. He knows he has crossed the line and regrets the words immediately.

"I think you better go," Sarah says putting down her cup on the coffee table.

Chuck sits up on the edge of his chair. "I think you're right. Thank you for the tea." he stands and makes for the door.

Sarah follows him. "Chuck…" she says.

He turns around and cuts her off. "Are you happy Sarah? In this life?"

She was surprised by the question but doesn't hesitate before she answers. "It's the life I always wanted."

"Then I'm happy for you Sarah." He says it like he means it, not like his heart is breaking and he turns and walks out the door.

"I'll see you out," Sarah says, following him out into the night.

They walk down the driveway. Chuck pulls his keys out of his pocket and a little red convertible blinks to life.

"Nice car," Sarah says. "It looks like I wasn't the only one who has done some changing."

"The government gave me a little money. And I don't like to be in enclosed spaces for too long, not after…you know."

Sarah twists her wedding ring nervously again. "Good luck, Chuck." She leans up to him and quickly kisses him on the cheek. "I hope you find happiness in your new life."

"Good luck to you, too. Though it looks like you've already found what you're looking for."

Chuck gets into his car, starts the engine, and waves one last time as he slowly pulls away.

Sarah stands there for a heartbeat, watching the car move away in the darkness. She closes her eyes, and then deciding, she starts to run after his car. "Chuck!" she yells at the top of her voice. She sees his tail lights flash red. The car stops. She runs the twenty yards that separate them; Chuck has already stepped out of the car and is facing her. There is question in his eyes. She crashes into him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He returned the embrace.

"I thought I could do this," She cries into his shoulder. "I thought I could just let you walk away. But I can't." She looks up into his face. "Chuck, I love you. And I'm so sorry that it has taken me nine years to say it."

Sarah put her hand on Chuck's cheek tentatively. Chuck searches her eyes in the darkness, not knowing what she wants. And then she grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him, slowly at first and then desperately. Chuck tries to communicate all the years loneliness and sorrow and wanting in his kiss. Chuck slides the clip out of Sarah's hair and the strands fall down to her shoulders. He's dreamed about her hair, and now he's running his hands through it. Finally, Sarah pulls away and Chuck notices tears flowing down her face.

"I didn't know. I didn't know that you were alive or I would have kept looking. I would have waited for you. But I didn't know."

"It's ok, it's over now," her murmurs, running his hands up and down her back.

"When I found out…you can't imagine how I felt."

"I think I can guess." He pulls her close again, holding her now more for comfort then for passion.

"What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?" she asks.

"I don't know," he answered. "I haven't been able to get past seeing you." He pulls back to look into her face again.

"Can we just go?" she says. Chuck looks at her with question in his eyes. "Go anywhere," she continues. "I can't let you out of my life again."

In answer, Chuck puts his hand to the small of Sarah's back and leads her around to the other side of his car and he opens the door for her. Taking the drivers seat he slides his key into the ignition but pauses before turning it. He sees Sarah out of the corner of his eye. She looks undone. This feels so right, and wrong all at the same time.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Sarah bites her lip. "I'm not sure of anything anymore," she admits.

"Me either." Chuck puts down his head on the steering wheel and tries to think. There are so many questions clouding his mine but one floats to the surface and he immediately knows that it's the question that he needs answered.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks.

Sarah clenches her hands in her lap but nods her approval.

"Why Sarah?" he asked softly, almost pleading. "Why when we were together, the job always came first. But now, with him…" he let the question trail off into the night air.

Sarah stares strait ahead at the empty, dark street. "When I learned you were dead…It got pretty bad; so many wasted days, so many missed opportunities." She shook her head sadly.

Chuck hears the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry," he says.

"I finally had to ask myself, _what would Chuck want me to do?_ The answer was easy. I knew you would want me to live my life and be happy."

"It's true," he confirms.

"And when I met Tyler and he was such a good man…" her voice trailed off.

Chuck twists in his seat to face her and reaches out and takes her hands. He knows what he has so do. "Sarah, I want you to know that all those years in the compound - I made it through because of you." He tightened his grip on her fingers; it felt so good to be touching her again. "When things got really hard, and I thought about giving up, I would think of you, that you would want me to keep living. You saved me, and…now," He takes a deep shaky breath, "…now it's my turn to save you."

She looks at him questioningly. Chuck sighs heavily and then he puts his car in reverse. "I'm going to take you home." He drives backward up the driveway and stops at her front door.

"Are you sure?" she asks, looking for answers in his eyes.

Chuck looks up at the house, yellow light shining out its windows. "There's a little girl that needs you. And that Tanner."

"Tyler," she corrects him.

"Yeah, Tyler, he must be a heck of a guy."

Sarah smiles to herself. "He is."

Sarah steps out of the car and leans against the driver's door. "Thank you." She leans down and kisses him once more on the cheek. "I'll always love you," she whispers into his ear. She quickly turns for the house and a moment later she is gone, the front door clicking quietly behind her.

Through the small window in the door Chuck watches her silhouette move up the stairs. "Good bye, Sarah," Chuck says into the night air. He stares at the house a moment longer, and then puts his car in gear and slowly pulls away.

From her bedroom window Sarah watches his tail lights disappear into the darkness.

The End

* * *

_As you may have recognized, this oneshot is a adaptation of one of my most favorite movie scenes of all time. I hope I caught a fraction of the intensity of the original._

_Please don't stone me charah fans. Life is not always full of happy endings. I hope you at least felt satisfied with the ending, if not happy. I love Chuck and Sarah too and if you want to read them actually getting together, catch my chapter story Revelations. The next chapter will be up in a few days and I promise fluff!_

_Many thanks to the Chuckster for beta reading this for me. He puts up with this strange hobby of mine, even though he thinks I'm crazy._


End file.
